


Strange

by rane_ne



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU where Sans is human, Angst, Details are slightly vague, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Kinda but not really, M/M, Older brother Pap, Sexual comfort, Younger Brother Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5297825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rane_ne/pseuds/rane_ne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans is strange to the touch, warm flesh under his inexperienced, trembling hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgence is my middle name, fontcest is my not-so-secret secret sin.  
> (Old ficlet I never published till now. Please excuse the choppy format/writing & enjoy!)

Sans is strange to the touch, warm flesh under his inexperienced, trembling hands, black eye-sockets empty but for the electric fervor that sets his entire body aglow. He smells like bones – slippery sweat slicking down the interstices of his limbs, legs spread slightly, hands grasping onto nothing but tainted air – and yet when he breathes out, hot breath escapes from the edges of his teeth, rising, phantom strings of a particular odor that sparks _something_ within the older’s memory.

It’s foul – _hot, searing recollection_ – and as Papyrus shoves Sans’s lax grip away, the thick trail of rancid expulsion fills the space between them. Fills his rib-cage with its sickeningly familiar scent, overused, overused, too _human_ -sque for him to ever use. Without thinking, he pushes back from that heated body with an audible clatter of his jaws, effectively disengaging in a tangle of wet bones and subdued desire. The darkness of the room betrays nothing, not even the tremor of rejection that crosses over his brother’s meaty face, a face that he should’ve long recognized, during their endlessly short time together in the Underground, as more human than monster.

*you goin’ somewhere?

The shuffle of sheets from the other side hints at Sans’s close proximity. But the younger skeleton makes no move to reach for Papyrus, who sits on the edge of the bed as if he’s seconds away from leaving—from locking away the secrets of whatever _this_ could mean and to whatever Sans, the true Sans, could _be_.

“I-I…I’M MERELY ATTEMPTING TO REASSESS THE SITUATION…” He nervously brings his hands into his lap, a lap that is thin and brittle like meat-less bones. “…SO I WON’T MAKE A MISTAKE…” _So that I won’t hurt you._

It’s now a matter of whether Sans will believe him; careful as he’s never appeared to the outside world, considerate as he’ll always be towards his little brother, when it comes to intimacy, he’s clumsy regardless of any pure-hearted intentions, rough and chaotic despite his overwhelming trepidation to enter a person as reserved and secretive – as _cool_ – as Sans. So when he starts blabbing his soul out, Papyrus knows he’ll eventually say something that strikes the shorter skeleton wrong. He knows that he’ll slip up, and mistakes will be made. He knows it all but can’t stop himself from jumping as a gentle hand reaches to touch his shoulder-bones.

*what’s wrong?  
Sans murmurs, and in any other context, the low tenor of his voice would’ve been seductive; now, it only bleeds concern. The smooth slide of his fingers along Papyrus’s humerus and down to his inner radius, touch full and heavy unlike the taller’s, is comforting. Sans’s scent, his nearness, his silent demeanor and soft ministrations is every bit as comforting as he’s always remembered it to be.

“N-NOTHING IS WRONG…I…I JUST…” Papyrus turns around, still frowning, still unsettled and disturbed in spite of the warm tingle that creeps under his bones at the constant fondling. His lower jaw drops wide open, the rest of the words shriveling on his palate the moment he gets a good look at Sans in the dark.

_Brilliance._

A cyanic brilliance flaring through the depths of what should be pure, unadulterated black, sockets as solid as the blossoming, dead night sky above them. A left eye that shouldn’t be there, flickering with tension and unease as it meets Papyrus’s shocked gaze, illuminating the contours of a pair of cheekbones flushed with blood, impossibly, _oh God_ , much too impossibly _human_ for him to comprehend.

How can it be that his brother, this skeleton and monster supposedly born in the Underground, feels so human to the touch?

“S-SANS…”

There’s no response, save for the now unsteady exhale from those gritted dentures, tendrils of stale breath streaming from Sans’s mouth in cloudy puffs. He says nothing, only gazes back at Papyrus with a sort of determined expression on his face. Those jointed hands – _hands_ , not bones – continue to pierce the older’s conflicted emotions with their soft lure of coiled heat, a desire that surprises the both of them with its raw enormity—an extension beyond the bounds of mere platonic affection to a deeper, darker part of his desires. Entwined within the folds of Papyrus’s sheets, he’d prove that this secret, this moment, would be the first step to fully cementing their relationship as brothers… and lovers.

When Sans finally speaks up, his hands have moved to tug Papyrus – shell-shocked, stunned, practically grinding his bones into ash from the utterly delicious image of seeing his sibling beneath him, fresh and alive and buzzing with energy from not only the soul of a monster but the soul of a human’s as well – down against his body, a collision of spiky bone against bony flesh.

With a lazy smile, the stouter male murmurs into his brother’s hollow ear-space.  
*that’s right… i’m _everything_ you think i am, papyrus… everything you want me to be…  
Sans spreads his short legs again; the scent of lust – _aching, searing recollection_ – sets them both aflame, slick and slippery and hard with arousal.  
*…even _human_.

When Papyrus pushes in, length throbbing with sporadic tendrils of coral energy, the sharp penetration is nothing compared to the discomfort of that engorged bone moving inside of him. Sans has never felt as strange as he does now, pliant and forced apart as he stares up blankly into his brother’s concentrating, sweaty face. Each thrust sends a jolt of sensation down his spine – _cold heat; unbearable, deep, agonizing_ pain – but with every clench and loosening of his body, innards tight to bone, hands grappling desperately at a skeletal frame so unlike his own, the agony begins to coalesce into pleasure. _Slowly. Steadily._ He opens his legs a little wider, returns the brush of teeth against lips, and bathes in the steady, torturous embrace that keeps him locked firmly to the material world.

It's beautifully familiar—the smell of an odor he can only recall from past memories, of the days before he’d abandoned his old life for this rickshaw dimension that could never, ever truly be considered ‘home.’ Papyrus’s thin body draped over his, holding him close, shielding him from _[those ugly, ugly thoughts]_ , forces a quiet sob through his permanently fractured smile.

Nothing has ever quite come close to home like this... Nothing but _him_.

He closes his eyes and breathes it all in.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this when I first considered the possibility of Sans being human (in another time/dimension) and having come to Snowdin after his time-machine broke down and meeting Papyrus and adopting him as his brother... or something like that. I don't even remember where I wanted to go with this anymore.  
>  _"Make moar Papyrus/Sans fics!!! TT"_ —Me to Undertale fandom


End file.
